


Razor Lollipops

by hanihyunsu



Series: Your November Chance of Candies [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: America/England Feels (Hetalia), Angst, Arguing, Best Friends, Betrayal, Childhood Friends, Coming of Age, Death, Flashbacks, Forgiveness, Friendship, Gen, Hatred, Heartbreaking, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lies, M/M, Male Friendship, Memories, Mentioned France (Hetalia), Minor England/France (Hetalia), Minor Injuries, Misunderstandings, Multi, Murder-Suicide, One Shot, Poor England (Hetalia), Secrets, Self-Hatred, Smoking, Violence, Wish Fulfillment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 03:11:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19098571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanihyunsu/pseuds/hanihyunsu
Summary: To hell with your lollipops which did nothing but strip my tastebuds off.To hell with the friends who cared and didn't at the same time.To hell with the parents who broke our hearts before any other girl would.To hell with the cigarette smoke, the car crash and the cold beer which left me to die inside.To hell with the dream I lost.To hell.At age 20, I wished you die. And at age 21, we both bled our blood and replaced it with water.I hoped we both die, Arthur. At least you got one thing right.





	Razor Lollipops

**Author's Note:**

> This story/series includes intense hatred and suicide/murder. Please be aware of mature themes. Heavy UsUk angst. Kind of.
> 
> Ep. 1 // "Razor Lollipops" // UsUk/FrUk

[ılı.lıllılıı.ıllı](http://%C4%B1l%C4%B1.l%C4%B1ll%C4%B1l%C4%B1%C4%B1.%C4%B1ll%C4%B1)

ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ  
 _no children - the mountain goats_

━━━━◉───────  
◃◃   ⅠⅠ   ▹▹

[ılı.lıllılıı.ıllı](http://%C4%B1l%C4%B1.l%C4%B1ll%C4%B1l%C4%B1%C4%B1.%C4%B1ll%C4%B1)

At age 9, I hoped I'd meet this nice green-eyed transferee in my class. And at age 10, I finally said, "Hi, you dropped my red crayon, pick it up for me?"

Then, at age 11, I hoped I'd get a girlfriend like those other cool boys do. And at age 12, you helped me ask my first girlfriend out.

The next year, I hoped I don't get bullied anymore. And at age 14, you saw my purple bruises and reported it to the office.

Then, at age 15, I wished for a great highschool experience. And at age 16, you helped me try out for the basketball team.

You see Arthur, it's times like this I realize a pattern in my lifeーeverytime I wish for something over my birthday candle, it takes a year before it comes true. It was odd that I, a normal person, believe in this weird coincidence when you are the one with the occult shit and tarot cards but I think it was trueーand now it is still trueーso I believe in it. 

I was raised in an American household with a family that was always in a middle of a divorce, up until I was in eighth grade. By then, the divorce was finally settled and I only get to visit my dad in Sweden every other birthday.

And then there was you, who I first met as a kid who always asks for lifts at the mall instead of an elevator, the one with the iconic eyebrows. You said you were raised in England until you moved here, and I always find it strange you still haven't picked up our accent after all these years.

Bottom line is that we are so different and that makes it wonderful. We learn about each other as much as we help each other live, and well, suffer. We made ourselves suffer. It was up to who will break first to know who wins and who loses. 

Wow, Arthur, it really had been a competition all along, huh?  

Now that I'm thinking back on it, I hoped I haven't met you at all. If I didn't, I would still be bullied and remained lame and nameless forever. And you know what? Being bullied and nameless is better than _this,_ Arthur. I hope you know how selfish of a douche you were.

But I didn't always hate you, you know? There was a time that you were my everything. Back then, at least we were happy. Now, we're just angry and afraid.

Now, do you remember that poetry club you had me join for me losing a bet? You never knew this, but when you missed one meeting because of theater club, the instructor discussed beautiful words in our language. Others guessed "Love", "Infinity", "Friendship" and all that stereotypical sappy words. However, I was too absorbed in my own thoughts to know what the most beautiful English word was, because I kept thinking of my own beautiful word. It makes me feel sad that I never knew what the actual answer was. Either way, even if I knew that, I don't think I would have a different opinion. My most beautiful word would still be your name, Arthur.

_And I hope I forget it._

And that one time, when I asked you what the tickets at your bedside were? Those were concert tickets for our favorite band, and that concert was phenomenal. The band was better live, because I could feel the drum beats sync to my pulse. Even if you spent the entire time cursing under your breath with the wildness of the crowd, I carried you on my shoulders with no problem; I have never seen you so happy and free, shouting the lyrics I could barely hear.

_And I hope I didn't ask to come in the first place._

Then, when we were sophomores with a lot of hormones, I had to crash at your house because I was too drunk to walk home and too sad to call mom. You saw me kissing your sister but you still offered me the guest bedroom that still smelled like my perfume. I may be drunk and delirious and might have made shit up in my head, but the regret I felt that night was real.  

_I hope I ran away when that green-eyed girl walked to me._

When I failed junior English and had to ask someone for help, you volunteered to motivate me through study sessions. You made sure I studied and never slacked off. The lollipops you offered me everytime I write a good paragraph helped me more than you or the lollipop company CEO could assume. The scent and taste got me hooked into it way after I aced the test that I could simply smell cherries and I would always remember you. I would see a child with a lollipop and I would always remember you.   

_I hoped I didn't eat any of the damn candy._

There were more _"I hope I didn't"_ 's that I could think of, but you weren't worth that much effort. You found new friends and left me alone, remember? That was your first mistake. You acted like I was a ghost, or someone you never knew at all. That was your second mistake. Then, you kept up the innocent act and we graduated without you explaining what in the world I did wrong. 

That was your worst mistake.

I get that there are a lot of other people smarter than me, Arthur. I know there were people that actually supported you with your occult things and superstitions and people that are better in poetry and theater than I am. I knew I never supported you nor helped you as much as you did to me and I admit that. 

It's fucked to think that I deserve the pain, only because I really do. I always talked shit of your tarot cards and British accent. I never tried to help you when you were struggling. I did more bad things, but that won't cancelout the way it was absolutely stupid and hurtful. I still don't think that my passive acts could equal the outright ghosting you pulled. 

I lived my gap year that I deserved all of it. I was on my way on forgiving myself not a year after, forgetting you and moving on. And that was when you decided to appear _once-fucking-again._

No matter what we did to avoid each other, we somehow always meet. You would be at the university library when I had to borrow a book at the counter. You would be at the junkshop when I had to buy cheap wood for my 3D house engineering project. You would be the actor when I came to watch the university production play.

And we both know that sucks. We both think we follow each other when we actually did the opposite.

The worst of it all, our friends are friends with each other. That's when it all snapped, right? Cafe hangouts were the worst when Francis, Gil, Antonio, Mattie and Natalya kept introducing us to each other... _one by one._

They told me you were actually a British orphan adopted by an American family, and they told you I was a product of divorce. We never knew that much about each other and we could see in each other's glares the question, " _Why didn't I know that about you?"_

And almost instantly, we saw the answers as well. 

" _Whatever, I don't care._ "

But did we really?  

It answered into "secrets", which translated into "betrayal". That's when we knew the universal truth. We aren't really friends, Arthur, we are just highschool classmates who had guestrooms reserved for each other in our houses with an abundance of lollipops and half-written essays. That was everything we were, and I hated that it didn't end that way. It just had to be worse, ain't it?

And by worse, I meant _better._  We had to be better so our downfall would have a harder impact on rock bottom. 

Quite literal rock bottom, I spoke of.

You were the one that came to me first, following me in that wood shop. It was quite comical how we were like dramatic little girls who fought over candy. I noticed that we realized this immaturity and went on with our lives, as fresh-from-the-highschool-shitshow Arthur Kirkland and Alfred F. Jones. I think the others had an idea that we have issues but they never spoke of it and just accepted us as we were. They were just who we need.

We seven always hang out at the bridge after the cafe we all loved closed. That secret bridge would be low enough that we fish there only to catch nothing, ending up camping overnight which we won't survive if it wasn't for Mattie's boyscout knowledge. The very thing we tease him about became the very thing we survived with the help of. When he successfully made a campfire with nothing but wood and rocks, I saw you look at me across the bonfire and know how much of a good friend Mattie was to me when you left. I probably won't survive without Mattie, and so won't you.

We both understood that unspoken realization that night. 

Then there was the day Francis, Gil and Antonio had a car accident. All three of your friends were on the hospital and you were the one who called me, Mattie and Natalya. You were so relieved to know they didn't suffer serious injuries and I saw just how important they were to you, just like how important Mattie and Natalya was to me. They were the people that were there when we had nobody.

But I wonder how you would feel if you knew I was the one that drove the car with them? If you knew I was the missing driver that wasn't discovered until they told you? If you knew I jumped from the car when I realized the brakes were off? If you knew I was the one who called 911 and paid for their ambulance?

I know you will be furious. _More than furious_. And you really were livid when Francis told you. 

But you never said anything and just lived as normal. You never said anything remarkable to me, and I resorted to hiding my wounds from the jump for you to forget all about it. You only did what you normally do around night: go to our bridge, light your cigarette and smoke until you're sleepy.

That night, I heard you met Natalya through your smoking habits. She was the one you bought packs from, and Mattie and I always watch you two smoke together and share a conversation in the silence under the moon. But that night, Natalya didn't smoke with you.

She lit me my first cigarette and I swear I almost fell from the bridge from almost passing out. She also gave Mattie one, and they teased me at how I was too much of a "good boy" that they often smoke without me. I didn't even know Mattie can smoke, and that resulted in a lot of humiliation, immature banter and laughter, and you watched the three of us do so. I knew you were smiling from behind the cigarette on your lips, and I tried hard not to wonder when exactly did you start smoking.

_I still wished you die from that, even now._

University was stressful when you have big dreams, however. On my gap year, the year I spent trying to forgive myself for the things I did to you, I finalized my dream of graduating college and moving to the East Coast and find work there, leaving the town I grew to hate the more I stay there. I would leave the state and never return, starting a brand new life while still supporting my dad in Sweden, the only one who actually cared. If he won the custody and I get to live in Europe, I would have never met you and my life would still be fine. It didn't turn out my way, obviously. 

And then again, it didn't turn out your way either. It's your fault Arthur and I hate you so much for it.

Unfortunately, things in life grew worse on third year. Natalya went back to Russia with her family, while Antonio suddenly dropped out because of financial problems and went back to Spain. Gil then started dating Mattie and I had to talk some sense into the both of them to not hurt each other or I'll kick off their balls to the Asteroid Belt, or at least the nearest McDonald's. 

That left me, you, and Francis. I've never felt so alone. It was awkward trying to fit in when the ones that connected us were gone. We were only mutuals, and never friends. 

Francis knew more about our situation than we do. He was the one who hid your cigarettes and my beer, both for uni bagchecks and our organs begging for mercy. He even invited us over to his house for dinners just so we can eat real food instead of ramen for once.

But I know he likes you, Arthur. I see the way he looks at you when you contribute to the conversation. I see the way he seems to be in deep thought when he reads the poetry you never showed me. I see how he always sits next to you when we go to the bridge. I see how carefully he cut your hair in contrast to the barber-like way he cut mine. I even notice how you two smell alike most of the time, whether it was you who used his perfume or the other way around.

Seeing that, don't blame me when I started to not show up at the bridge anymore. Mattie and Gil weren't concerned that much; I told them I was busy and I showed them the paperwork I didn't even do, while you and Francis were left in the dark. For the record, you didn't ask nor visit, so everyone assumed you already knew. I bet you didn't even notice I was gone. I admit I waited for you to notice how lonely I was, being the only loveless person in the group, but you never came. I was an alcoholic who begs for attention, but you were a chainsmoker who was just the same. So I didn't ask you nor visit you either, just like you did to me. This is all a competition of pride, Arthur, and I am not giving up on winning. 

We both let each other die for the first time that day.

I may have failed a few essays, but with the help of Natalya, who had too much free time on her hands, I managed to get past the semester and live my last year as a college student. Gil also helped me too, just by sitting at my dorm and making sure I actually do some work while he lives off my Netflix. Antonio would send short messages when he can, which helped a lot when all I need were "Have you drank water today, vato?" to get through the day. Mattie then helps me clear my head by playing jenga or crocodile dentist, and Francis would give me some fancy crepes for my mini-achievement of just existing. 

And you would do nothing. And I didn't do anything to repay any of the others either. I was an evil spawn of Satan who showed no sign of gratitude, just like you.

I know they knew I felt down. They probably think it was mental illness or early-stage alcoholism. They resorted to acting out and helping me. I appreciate that effort but I felt too tired. And I know they do the same to you too, helping you when all you need was support. They were the good friends we needed but don't deserve. 

We had to talk to each other somehow, sooner or later. It came faster than I anticipated. We met at the bridge, just the two of us, and out of all the things I did, I never regretted this one.

I gave a solid uppercut for all the things you did. You were so shocked, like you were so innocent. _Why?_

You don't think I knew you six had get-togethers I wasn't invited from, because you told them I can't come? You don't think I knew how you lie about when we were friends I told you once had an STD I never had? And how you actually went with my ex-girlfriend after we broke up?

What a bastard, you're like a motherfucking pathetic attention-seeking fucker, resorting to lying to be happy with his own life.

I thought all that time that you were doing nothing and so I proceeded in doing nothing as well. It turns out you were fucking with my name all around. If Mattie and Natalya believed you, I would have been alone. Thank heavens they fucking didn't.

You were, are and will always be the worst person I could ever meetーworse than my mom who smokes as much as you do and worse than the bastard she was hooking up with.

I became a man of nothing but anger. That night, at the bridge, I did justice to that anger and finally acted out. You fought back too; it's not like I was completely innocent in all this. All I knew is that I want to beat you to pulp. I want to mush your lungs and show you how black it is. I want to tie a rubber band on your esophagus and hope you suffocate. I want you to lose in every card game you play. I want you to feel so down and betrayed you can't look at your reflection without crying. I want you to trip in every staircase you come across. I hope you know how it feels to lick your lollipops with a burnt tongue. I hate you so much. I hate you.

I don't think the others knew what went on. We both lied and said we fought off a raging drunk man who walked past the bridge. I don't think they realize how your knuckles match the bruises on my cheek.

We lived emptily for days. We left the coffee and tea cold on the table on breakfast. We don't watch Netflix with Gil and had Mattie play jenga with Francis instead. We half-assed our papers and end up together in the guidance office a couple times.

Then, my 20th birthday came. I spent my last wish for you. Ironic, right? I wished for the person I hated the most.

The next year, we graduated, and Natalya went back to congratulate us. She herself owned a business in Russia with her brother and sister and never had to worry about college anymore. Antonio also appeared a few days later to show us his own college diploma from a Spanish community college. We graduated, took a lot of photos, spent the night in Francis' house and drank to deaths.

To be precise, all of them except us.

We went back to the bridge that night. I left my toga at the school, and my things boxed and on their way to Sweden. I assume you did the same thing, too. We stood there in the afternoon, and the sun reflected on the water to our eyes. All I had on me was a knife.

And just had yourself nothing but a knife too.

We stood together at the edge, not close but you were the nearest person to me, literally and figuratively. 

_"Just when exactly did everything go wrong?"_

_"I don't know."_

You jumped first, and the water pressure was warm on the outside and cold inside. The water was both dark and light, and I followed you down. If it wasn't for the momentum, I would have believed we jumped at the same time. You reached to me and I held your arm one last time, in a grip so tight I wish could break your bones. I saw you open your lips and let out your last breath. I wasn't sure who did so first and you aren't sure either. 

It was I who pulled you closer but it was you who raised your knife first. The pain of a stab from the back stained the water red, and I wouldn't come down with the water claiming only my name. I pushed down my blade into your chest and watched you bleed down as well.

To hell with your lollipops which did nothing but strip my tastebuds off.

To hell with the friends who cared and didn't at the same time.

To hell with the parents who broke our hearts before any other girl would.

To hell with the people who blocked us from living out our misery the best way we want to.

To hell with the cigarette smoke, the car crash and the cold beer which left me to die inside.

To hell with the dream I lost.

To hell.

At age 20, I wished you die. And at age 21, we both bled blood and replaced it with river water.

I hoped we both die, Arthur. At least you got one last thing right.

* * *

 

_and I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away_

_and i never come back to this town again_

_in my life_

_i hope i lie_

_and tell everyone you were a good wife_

_and i hope you die_

_i hope we both die_

_\- no children_  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Their friendship is like divorce. Blood definitely is thicker than water. 
> 
> For more feels, please listen to: No Children by The Mountain Goats. I based the story from it, it had a nice melody to it despite the lyrics.
> 
> Next on the Series: "Mint Gummies" (Belarus perspective), "Gummy Bears" (PruCan perspective) and "Hollow Bread" (Spain perspective/Ending).


End file.
